Snow Fall

Cover art by Jaxx_art_Box, find her on Instagram and tumblr.
Beta work by Pidanka, SimplifiedEmotions, and Jamethiel.

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It begins to snow the morning of Christmas Eve. The flurries just start to appear when Hermione gets back from her morning run. Once she kicks off her trainers and hangs her jacket in the entry, she goes to the sitting room window to watch it fall, pulling her wand free from the bun twisted on the top of her head.

The flakes are sparkling in the morning light. Hermione's panting, still catching her breath as she watches, rubbing her hands together to warm her fingertips. There's a bright fire crackling merrily in the hearth. The cold doesn't penetrate the warmth of the sitting room where a small Christmas tree stands in one corner, decorated with baubles and tinsel and glittering fairy-glass ornaments that are all perfectly matched. The scent of pine and cedar wreaths fills the air, paired with cinnamon and clove oranges.

There is a quiet cosiness to the cottage combined with a feeling of newness about the room; empty walls, odd bare spots over the hearth and tables, as though the surfaces are still waiting for just the right knick-knack to find its way there and make a home. The wall of bookshelves is almost full, but there are still boxes at the foot of them. Several shelves are occupied by duplicate copies of certain titles, waiting in pairs while their respective owners debate whose copy should be kept.

It's a home, but one that isn't yet assembled in full.

Hermione's eyes flutter closed, savouring the quiet until she hears soft footsteps approach, coming to a stop beside her. Her eyes open and she looks out the window a moment longer.

"Look, it started snowing," she says.

"I noticed," is all the reply Draco gives as he slips a mug of tea into her chilled hands. She leans back against his chest, and they stand together watching for a few minutes in silence.

"I used to dream about white Christmases when I was little," she says. "It would be a bit like a fairy tale to have it snow for our first Christmas."

She glances up at him. His features are sharp as cut glass, and the corner of his mouth quirks as he stares back at her. She slips her left hand back and finds his, entwining their fingers and pulling his arm around her waist. He rests his chin on the top of her head, and his thumb rubs slowly back and forth across her wedding band as if he still isn't quite used to finding it there.

"Maybe it will stick," she says after a few minutes.

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"Did you have things you did growing up, when you got snowed in?" she asks while chopping vegetables.

Draco is standing a few feet away, prepping veal shanks, entirely indifferent to the weather outside, unlike Hermione who has spent half the day glued to the windows. There's an apron tied around his hips, his sleeves carefully rolled up to the elbows. His wand has been laid aside on a shelf as he unwraps the butcher paper, inspecting each piece with a critical eye.

"Snowed in?" He glances up.

She nods. "You know when you can't travel because there's so much snow outside that it's not safe."

His eyebrows furrow and he looks briefly uncomfortable, the way he always tends to when a 'cultural' difference between them happens to come up.  "Wizarding folk don't generally have that issue. Floo, apparition, portkeys, there's usually some way to travel regardless of the weather."

Hermione pauses, chewing thoughtfully on a carrot stick. "Oh, of course. I suppose as long as you have a wand, there's a way."

She places the carrots into a bowl, alongside several others filled with diced onions, celery, and prepared herbs, checking that they're all neatly uniform before turning and pouring herself a glass of wine.